


red stained hands

by hailingstars



Series: unbelievably unlikely (febuwhump 2020) [4]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Nightmares, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, Tony Stark Has A Heart, febuwhump 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22562071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailingstars/pseuds/hailingstars
Summary: “I was just out for a walk.”“And you decided you’d walk around , back and forth, in front of my door?” asked Mr. Stark. “Fri told me you’ve been pacing around.”“I – I just –“ said Peter. He released a breath and hung his head. “I’m sorry I woke you up. I’ll just, I’ll go back to bed.”Peter turned, or at least, he tried to. Mr. Stark caught him gently by the arm and tugged him close, until Peter’s head was in his neck and Mr. Stark’s arms was wrapped around his body.“It’s okay, kid,” he told him. “I get them too.”ORPeter has nightmares and Tony is there for him.Febuwhump day 4: red stains
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: unbelievably unlikely (febuwhump 2020) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619662
Comments: 22
Kudos: 333





	red stained hands

Peter’s eyes snapped open and his breath left his body with a shake. He stared through the darkness at an unfamiliar ceiling, trying to blink away the image of the dying man who’d been haunting him in his nightmares.

Without the comforting sounds of Queens, the people shouting in the road, the random car alarms here and there, and Ms. Wilkinson’s cat meowing all throughout the night, it wasn’t an easy task.

Then there was Mr. Stark, who’d said goodnight to him with a squeeze on the shoulder and an order to come to him if he needed anything. Peter sat up in his bed. The idea of closing his eyes and trying to go back to bed made his stomach turn but leaving his newly assigned room in the compound to seek out Mr. Stark after a nightmare would make him look like a baby.

Plus, Mr. Stark probably meant if he needed a toothbrush or couldn’t find the towels. Something practical. Not comfort that usually came from familiarity of Queens, the sound of May’s heart beating just a wall away.

Peter swung his legs over the bed anyway, telling himself he just needed some water and his headphones to get him through the night. His legs had other ideas, though. They left his room without permission from his brain, like he was some sort of zombie searching for the only place he knew as warm.

Before he knew it he stood in front of Mr. Stark’s door, picking at a loose string at the end of his long sleeved shirt and internally berating himself.

He didn’t understand why he couldn’t get it together. Why should he have such problems sleeping at night?

His thoughts were a frenzied mess, chaotic and unrelenting, as he started pacing around in front of Mr. Stark’s shut door.

He should go back to bed. He wasn’t a child. He wasn’t some kid who needed tucked in, and the last he needed or wanted was another reason for the Avengers to treat him like a baby.

He stopped. Took a breath, or at least he tried.

He should go back to bed, though the thought of being alone, being face with another nightmare filled with his hands stained red, still made him sick.

Just then, Mr. Stark’s door creeped open. His mentor stepped out of the room, his hair ruffled and his pajamas just a different color of what Peter wore, plaid bottoms and a long sleeve shirt.

“Hey, Pete,” he said, his voice still raspy from sleep. “Are you… doing okay?”

Everyone was always asking him if he was doing okay. Peter had run out of ways to answer a while ago, so just stopped trying.

“I was just out for a walk.”

“And you decided you’d walk around , back and forth, in front of my door?” asked Mr. Stark. “Fri told me you’ve been pacing around.”

“I – I just –“ said Peter. He released a breath and hung his head. “I’m sorry I woke you up. I’ll just, I’ll go back to bed.”

Peter turned, or at least, he tried to. Mr. Stark caught him gently by the arm and tugged him close, until Peter’s head was in his neck and Mr. Stark’s arms was wrapped around his body.

“It’s okay, kid,” he told him. “I get them too.”

He let Mr. Stark hug him, though he didn’t deserve the comfort or the love or the pity, or whatever else it was Mr. Stark was trying to offer him when he pulled him into his suite and let the door fall shut behind them both.

Mr. Stark guided him to a stool sitting by the kitchen counter and pushed on his shoulder’s until he sat down on it. Peter watched, silently, as Mr. Stark put a tea kettle on the stove and heated it up. He listened to the whistling it made, he listened to the slow, steady rhythm of Mr. Stark’s heart.

It might have lulled him to sleep if his head wasn’t so loud.

Mr. Stark was content to keep things quiet. It was the longest Peter had ever seen him go without words. There, in the dimly lit kitchen, he was calm and still, like an anchor in a stormy sea. None of his panicky fast talking or his quips.

He was relaxed, Peter supposed, because he had to be, because it was clear Peter needed something, _someone_ , strong and steady in the chaotic mess he’d made with his life.

Spider-Man. What a joke. Spider-Man couldn’t save anyone, couldn’t even save himself.

Mr. Stark put a cup of tea down in front of him.

“I didn’t know you drank tea,” said Peter.

“On the nights I don’t sleep.”

“Is… that often?” asked Peter. He tried to keep the hope out of his voice. He didn’t have a reason to be hopeful. He didn’t deserve to be.

“More often than I’d like.”

He sat down on the bar stool next to Peter. Too close. He was too close, closer than when they were hugging, because he was about to get to the truth. It clawed and scraped at Peter’s insides, begging to get out, threatening to rip him to shreds if he didn’t let it see the light of day.

The truth was like that. Like a monster that wouldn’t shut up until they were let out.

“I can’t stop –“ Peter’s voice broke as he fought tears. He rubbed his thumb against the tea cup’s handle. “I can’t stop seeing his face… every time I close my eyes he’s there… and in my nightmares, my hands are red – I – I can’t get it off.”

“Kid,” said Mr. Stark. He closed his hand around Peter’s wrist. “It isn’t your fault.”

Peter yanked his arm away, a sudden rush of rage consuming him. “It _is_ my fault. I’m tired everyone saying it isn’t.”

Mr. Stark looked… hurt. Not offended, or angry, just hurt.

“You didn’t force him up on that building that night,” said Mr. Stark. Peter looked away, at his hand gripping the tea cup. “You didn’t force him to hurt all those people, to kill all the ones he killed. He chose to do that, Pete. He was an adult who made a decision and who had to deal with the consequences.”

“But he would’ve –“ said Peter. He stopped and shook his head, trying to get the vision out of his head.

It replayed in slow motion. The man, Peter couldn’t begin to refer to him by his name, falling off the building he’d chased him on. Peter, in a panic, shooting a web down to stop him from hitting the ground. He’d never forget the brief relief that filled him, only for it to drain from his body when he heard the sickening snap of the man’s neck.

A killing blow, and Peter had dealt it.

“You were trying to save him,” said Mr. Stark. “And it’s more than I would’ve done. He was on a killing spree.”

“He couldn’t gone to jail,” said Peter. “He could’ve been rehabilitated.”

“No, Pete, not this time. You can’t save them all, especially when they don’t want to be saved.” Mr. Stark put a hand on his shoulder and Peter met his eyes. “The harsh truth is the streets are safer now he’s gone. Yeah, sure, it’d been preferable to take him in alive, but that isn’t how it went down and that’s not on you. It’s on him.”

Peter considered it. He considered taking Mr. Stark at his word and the relief it’d bring, but he couldn’t. The idea that he could ever walk around again like he used to, light and airy and not weighed down by the way a man’s face looks when life leaves it, when it’s your fault that it’s gone, was too good to be true.

“Drink up,” said Mr. Stark, taking his hand away and point to the cup of tea. “It’ll help you sleep.”

He doubted it, doubted very much that anything would ever help him sleep again. That sleep would ever be anything else except nightmares.

“We’re gonna get you through this,” said Mr. Stark, as if he could read his mind. “I know right now it feels like it won’t get better, but it will. You me and your aunt and the team, we’re gonna make sure you get through this, you just have to let us help.”

“You say it like I have an option.”

“It’s true, we sure as hell aren’t gonna leave you alone, but you always have a choice, Pete. I just know you’re gonna make the right one. It’s who you are.”

Peter supposed it was sort of comforting. Mr. Stark didn’t fail a lot, didn’t tend to make promises if he couldn’t keep them, at least when it mattered. He traced the rim of the cup with his finger, before taking a small sip of the liquid inside.

Mr. Stark gave him a sad smile and they sat in the kitchen in the silence, until Peter’s cup was empty and he stood up, started to head to the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Uh, back to bed.”

“I thought we were watching a movie.” 

“Yeah. Yeah,” said Peter, feeling a rush of relief at not having to face his empty, dark, unfamiliar bedroom, at not having to ask for company himself. “A movie sounds great.”

They ended up on the couch with Mr. Stark’s arm draped over him. He was right. The tea did make him tired, so tired, his eyelids fell closed and he fell asleep.

The nightmares came for him. Just like they did every night, but at least he knew he wasn’t alone.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! tomorrow!! is!!! FLUFF!! 
> 
> kudos and/or comments let me know what you think! 
> 
> [yell at me on tumblr](https://hailing-stars.tumblr.com)


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